It was a few hours later and Danni and Adora sat on the couch in pajamas, watching a terrible Hallmark movie. Her sister, Willow, was out of town at a convention with her boyfriend, otherwise, she would have joined them in the candy popcorn massacre. Her aunt, the head mortician, frequently worked late and was out of town at a jury trial for a murder that had happened in town a few months ago. The wife had already told us what had happened and all there was left to do was convince the living with physical proof.

The movie they’re watching is probably worse than being murdered by a lot of people, but when you work in the realm of the paranormal it is nice to have something mundane. After the woman confesses her love to an equally too-white-straight-teethed man, they make out and snow falls around them. Even if it was fake, it’s not like she would know. This body had never been out of Florida but many of her clients had. The memories almost felt like watching it on TV, a vague sense of what it should be. Maybe she’d add snow to this life’s collection of memories.

Adora reaches over and runs her hands through her daughter’s hair. “Are you thinking about what we’re gonna do about Maggie and George,” she asks, completely missing the mark. She hadn’t really thought of it and when she did, it seemed more and more like not her problem. Let the reapers take care of whatever was going on. Not to mention she was already exhausted with the little amount of effort she’d added to this issue. She just wanted to go back to floating through life. “No...I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to nose into this mess,” she says, attempting to be nonchalant in hopes that her mother would agree. No such luck. Her mother’s disapproving look burns holes in her cheek and she’s suddenly extremely interested in the horrible movie. “That poor girl is probably lost and scared, even more than when she first passed.”

Great, guilt-tripping. She sighs. “I can’t just stop going to work to play ghost detective, mom.” Danni turns to face Adora’s scalding gaze at her daughter’s attitude. It didn’t matter that the job was the family business.

“I know I didn’t raise you to be so callous to the pain of others.”

No, but when none of the experiences felt like your own anymore and were growing more and more repetitive each day, it was hard to keep empathy. It was all a cycle anyway and eventually, all things would zero back out only to start the same grueling process that is life all over again. Still, she was right, she supposed. It did make her feel a little bad to let the poor girl down. “I’ll try to help as much as I can in between work and life,” she finally relents. Maybe a few good deeds will earn me a ticket to Lethe so I can finally be normal. Things can finally be quiet.

The two of them finish out the movie night with Grease. Danni makes her way up the stairs into the bedroom next to her younger sister’s old one. Pale green paint and all of her old band posters line the walls. Some of her old clothes were still in the heavy wooden drawers that sat across from the twin bed. They were a bitch to move so they stayed here when she had left a year ago. The terry cloth shorts and old grey wife-beater tank top were slightly more snug than they used to be but still comfy, she decided as she pulled the blankets back to crawl under.

Once there, her eyes refuse to shut even as her body begs them to. She had a long day tomorrow and it was going to be hell fighting against the idea to skip class in the evening after work if she didn’t get some sleep soon. Eventually, she actively closes her eyes and forces her breathing to become deep and even. It isn’t long until she’s floating in the limbo between sleep and wake. It’s about that time that there’s a tapping noise that jolts her awake. Her eyes are adjusted to the darkness as she sits up straight in the bed, listening for the noise again. It comes. From her window to be specific. The window on the second floor of the house.

Her heart fills her throat. The blood in her veins freezes for a terrifying moment while she decides what she’s going to do. She’s suddenly a little girl, wanting to run to her mother for help. She always used to chase the scary things away. The tapping happens again and she swallows her fear, albeit somewhat unsuccessfully. What could possibly scare her? She’d seen and heard so many things far more terrifying in her other lives, she’s sure. It’s more than likely a ghost coming to bother her and she had plenty of experience dealing with those.

Her spitefulness has her pulling the sheets back, exposing her skin to the harshness of an A/C on full blast. Gooseflesh peels down her body when her feet hit the floor. She shakes out her nerves before she turns on the lamp in the corner of the room. The thick curtains covering the window left no indication of who or what could be haunting her sill in the middle of the night. Unceremoniously, she snatches them open like tearing off a band-aid. There, peeking into the room is a large crow.

“What the…” She cuts herself off. This was certainly odd. Crows weren’t usually up this late or bothering people in their homes. Adora could’ve had a hand in getting the local aviary species hanging around during the day, however. It was almost two in the morning, though. “You’re not coming in,” she says decisively to the bird. This seems to just amuse it, it’s head turned so it could watch her every move. Then, it taps again. Just as gently as before.

She folds her arms over her chest. “Absolutely not.” The ridiculousness of arguing with a crow isn’t lost on her but she also knows somehow that it knows exactly what she’s saying. Proven by its cawing in response. Loudly. At one in the morning. Danni tries shushing it but it’s having none of it, just continues until she finally concedes. “Fine, fine! Just hush, please. I’m not sure why you would even want in here,” she mumbles to herself only half believing that the bird calmed their voice at her behest. Familiars could exist but she doesn’t remember having ever met one. Her hand wavers mid-air and when she makes no move to let the creature inside he starts back again. She can hear Ozzy making hushed barking noises outside the door. Hurriedly, she begins unlocking the window to get the racket to stop.

No sooner does the window open does the crow dart inside, soaring past her. She closes the window as quietly as possible out of instinct before turning around. There’s no crow now, but a Reaper sitting with one knee propped up and a hand leaned back in her mattress, still managing to look threatening. Smoke and feathers are still fading in the air around him. Now, she can get a decent look at him. The soft light from the lamp highlights the high points of his gruesome face.

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A floating skull, suspended in black and white smoke. The eyeholes were the only place that had flesh. Ashy, gray flesh that housed a set of dark brown eyes. It seemed as though it had been widened from the scuffs and scratches marring the edges. His hair was whisps of smoke. Most of it was coal black, except for a clump where his temple would’ve been.

The skull's nose holes looked like they had been chipped away with softened jagged points giving room for an incorporeal nose. Her eyes slid down to where the skull's teeth were broken down the middle to make room for his ‘mouth’ that she caught her eyes lingering on. Seeing as there is no mouth, she’s not sure why her eyes can perfectly see his lop-sided grin that would match perfectly with his crinkled, expressive eyes. It would make any woman swoon, she's sure, so she doesn’t feel the need to acknowledge the way her heart skips at the thought. As soon as he comes to rest on the bed, the smoke gives way to his tangible form, wafting away from his skin.

“While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping. As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.” His deep, accented voice makes her shiver in spite of herself. He lifts his chin as if expecting her to say something. I mean, she should, shouldn’t she? He just, literally, flew into her room and recited poetry to her. In a rumpled, half-buttoned, black button-up and slacks, no less. “One hopes this visitor is much better company than the one in the poem,” she says cautiously, watching him. Even if reapers were simply the chauffeur to the afterlife they weren’t anything to mess with and certainly not disrespect. His eyes shine and he chuckles.

“Oh, well of course. I’m a crow, not a raven.” Danni huffs a small laugh. “Are ravens particularly different from crows,” she whispers, trying not to wake her mother.

Having to explain why a reaper was so casually sprawled on her bed seemed like the worst thing right now. Which, yeah, why exactly was he here? Cutting him off in responding to her question with something probably equally as ridiculous as the question itself, she asks just that. The reaper sighs heavily and throws his head back in a sort of defeated state, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m here because of the ghost in your attic. Seems they got themselves in a little bit of trouble. Chased her six blocks from a car wreck.” At this he sits back up, all at once leaning his arms forward on his knees, less relaxed than he had been before. “And I’ve been on good terms with your family for a while so I didn’t want to be rude and just break through the wards.”

“Oh, no. Just wake me up in the most terrifying way possible, right,” she quips, reaching for her sweater from earlier, yanking it quickly over her head to cover herself from his prying eyes. He stands, moving to follow her. “I could try waking you up a little differently next time if you’d like?” He says it low enough that it was almost a whisper and directly behind her head. She ignores him but it doesn’t stop her cheeks from warming up. I'd prefer not to be woken at all.

They head out into the hall where she leads them to the attic entrance. Once there, she simply opens the door and makes a gesture for him to go in which seems to be sufficient for the spell to allow him in. He’s wearing his serious face as he climbs the stairs. “Are you coming,” he asks, hesitating just a moment on the way up. She shakes her head, her hair coming undone from the twist she had stuffed into the neck of the sweater. “Nope. Have fun. I’m off the clock.” She’d had enough of ghosts for a bit. She doesn’t see him shrug as he starts his ascension once again. "Suit yourself."

He spends a bit of time there, quietly. Danni patiently waits for him to return just in case she has to let him out too. It doesn’t happen very often but the house can be finicky. After a few moments, she can hear his hushed footfalls slowly coming back down the stairs. She quickly finds herself standing in front of the reaper. He’s got a soft expression as he stares down into his folded arms. Peeking out over his forearm is a little black kitten with a white spot on their chest. Surrounding it is the distinctive muted glow of a deceased. Danni blanches.

“Meet Sorcha. Isn’t she just the sweetest?” He says this in the most carefree tone.

Her mouth opens and closes in bewilderment. The kitten -Sorcha, apparently- stares up at her before her mouth stretches into a huge yawn. She immediately melts. “Aww. Sweet baby,” she coos, reaching out to scratch her head, which is more like scratching the air where the cat’s head was. She’d found that while it wasn’t the same as being touched, most ghosts could feel when someone touched them. Almost like a thick comforter blocking most of the sensation but it was still there. Sorcha nuzzles into the feeling before tucking herself more into the reaper’s arms.

Blaine is smiling down at Danni when she looks up, pleased with the interaction. This time, she can’t hide her pink cheeks in the darkness, not with him this close. But she can hope anyway. “Is she going with you,” she asks, feeling a little sad at the fact that she didn’t get to live very long. He nods, reaching down himself to scratch her head. “Yeah, but I think that she’s going to stay on as a grim for a while.”

“You can do that?” She’s looking at him with wonder and a little bit of excitement. She didn’t know that reapers had the ability to keep on some spirits. Grims we're normally like hunting dogs, going and collecting spirits and bringing them back to their master. However, from her understanding, she'd thought there were a finite amount of grims to be found. She didn't know that they could be created. He notices her look and gives her a sly smile that has her regretting her decisions.

“I can. She’s going to have the ability to go and fetch smaller spirits for me, aren’t you, sweet girl.” Another scratch under the chin.

“Were you curious as to whether humans can also be my pets? The answer is yes, but only if she asks nicely.” She rolls her eyes but smirks, deciding that flirting back is equally enjoyable as berating him for his comments.

“Too bad. I never ask nicely.” Though, that was an interesting thought. She wondered if that was really possible and wouldn't that just make her another reaper, essentially?

With that thought swimming in her head, she turns and begins walking away, assuming he’s following her down the rest of the stairs to the front door. He doesn’t respond until she quietly tugs open the heavy wooden door after shushing Ozzy. He brushes past her, dipping down next to her ear, the smell of concrete dust filling the space. That’s what the other side smelled like.

“Don’t worry, love. We can always work on your manners later.” She blinks and just like that he’s gone, flirty comment lost to the wind.